


Sins of the Father

by RomeoandAntoinette



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Fire/Water, Introspection, Julie and Huey mention, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Abuse, References to MGS2, it's brief though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23322532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomeoandAntoinette/pseuds/RomeoandAntoinette
Summary: Snake and Otacon think about their fathers, and how they killed them. [Snake/Otacon] [References to MGS2]
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 3
Kudos: 57





	Sins of the Father

“I had a dream that I was burning alive,” Snake says. He puffs on a cigarette, the ember burning bright red and too close to his crooked fingers.

Otacon watches him from the other side of the bed. His small frame swims in the flannel sheets.

“David…” he whispers, his voice tender. “Why would you dream that?”

“It’s how my father died…” Snake says. Hot ash drips onto his bare stomach. The soldier doesn’t even flinch. “It’s how I killed him.”

Otacon is silent as he moves closer. The bed moans beneath him, not in agony, but in empathy.

“I killed him,” Snake says, this time unprompted. “Big Boss. My father. It had to be done.”

“David.”

“He wanted it, Hal,” Snake says, his voice filled with sorrow and hurt and pain and love that he’s never shown to anyone else. “And…when he died, I saw my own face in the flames.”

Otacon shudders, and not from the cold. The revelation of Snake’s true, nonorganic identity was still fresh in his mind.

“You said it yourself,” Otacon offers in a small but gentle voice. “He wanted it. His sins were his own to pay for, not yours.”

Snake only chuckles. He turns to his partner, the cigarette reduced to an ashy pulp between his fingers.

“Sins, huh?” Snake whispers. “Well, if Hell is real, I know what it’ll be like to burn there.”

* * *

“I had a dream that I was drowning,” Otacon says.

Snake manages a slow, reptilian blink. The combination of Hal’s surprising statement combined with his sudden awakening had made his mind foggy.

“Drowning?” he parrots, his voice thick with sleep. The analog clock beside the bed blinks 1:23 a.m. in obnoxious, Day-Glo green numerals.

“Yeah,” Otacon grunts as he rolls over to face him. “I tried to yell for you, but I couldn’t breathe.”

His voice is far away, but his eyes were sharp behind his thick glasses. Even in the dark, Snake could see the flecks of dark brown and black in his moondust-colored irises.

So often, his eyes are clouded by tears.

At that moment, his eyes are dry. Sharp and silver as knives. Or maybe syringes.

“That’s how my father died,” Otacon confesses. His smile is as broken as his voice. “That’s how I killed him.”

The words singe Snake like licks from a flame. His chest gets hot and burns with rage with the knowledge of what Otacon’s father did to him. What Julie Danziger did to him.

“Your father drowned himself and tried to take Emma with him,” Snake hisses. “You didn’t…”

“My father killed himself because of me,” Otacon says.

Then, the tears come. Not for any woman, but for himself.

“When he died, I saw my own face floating in the pool,” Otacon says. “I heard his screams. I saw and heard myself die.”

Snake can’t bear to listen. He pulls Otacon close and tries to muffle his statements of self-loathing. 

“Hal, stop.”

The man shudders in Snake arms. He then wraps his arms around Snake’s wider torso and holds on, as if he’s a man lost at sea that found a boulder to cling to.

Otacon weeps, tears beading on his lashes before falling onto Snake’s chest.

“You and me,” Hal says, voice cracking, “…We’re the same.”

People died, but sins didn’t.

* * *

The NGO Philanthropy was born in an off-the-grid cabin in Alaska.

The organization’s two fathers began formulating their plans for their infiltration of a large tanker scheduled to depart from a North American dock located near New York City's Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. Locals knew it as Staten Island's connection to civilization.

They only had about a year and a half to plan the operation if the information Otacon had hacked out of the Pentagon was anything to go by.

Nonetheless, the engineer was raring to go.

By the time he’d tracked down Snake in Alaska and asked for his allegiance, he had already been awake for over 48 hours.

“I thought you were going to quit this whole research thing,” Snake had teased as they ended their workday by powering down Otacon’s computer towers, which almost produced as much heat as the fireplace in such a tiny cabin. “Go into human psychology or something.”

Otacon took a deep breath before answering.

“I’m tired of always being a spectator in life,” he confessed, fingers curling loudly against the keyboard.

Then, he stood abruptly as stared up at Snake with fearless, determined eyes. The twin stars blazed with a determination that the retired soldier hadn’t felt in over a decade. “I’m ready to live.”

Something about Otacon’s resolve rekindled a spark in his chest. A passion he’d thought had long since died out.

“You and I are more alike than I thought.”

**Author's Note:**

> Stay healthy everyone! <3


End file.
